Realizing the Reason
by silvertrumpet26
Summary: When an old enemy of Alex's returns, he finds himself doing, well, nice things. And what's the whole deal with the new MI6 mission that he's been assigned? Enemies will turn friends, and vice versa; but the allegiances aren't what they appear to be...
1. Chapter 1: Friend or Foe?

A/N: Alright, I'm stepping out on a limb and deciding to write an Alex Rider story! This story is mainly involving Alex and Yassen, but there's no slash or anything like that, so don't bug me for it!

Chapter One: Friend or Foe?

"Hey, Jack!" Alex Rider called, opening the front door and stepping into the entrance hall of his house. He walked into the kitchen where Jack was busy making a fruit salad and tossed his backpack onto the floor beside the breakfast bar. "What's new?" he asked her.

"Not much, really," she told him, while she continued to cut up an apple. "Sabina called to tell you that she misses you already, but that's about it."

Alex thought for a second about Sabina. She had left a couple of days ago to go back to her house in America, where her dad worked. Alex smiled to himself, pulling his chemistry homework out of his backpack and sitting at the bar to concentrate on chemical reactions. He was slightly behind in school, but he had been working hard to bring up his grades before the semester ended.

_Ding-dong._

The noise brought Alex back to reality. He looked up from the kitchen table where he was doing his homework, and sighed.

"Don't worry, I'll get it," Jack told him. "It's probably another one of those salesmen wanting to sell us something." She walked to the door.

Alex couldn't see the door from his seat at the bar, but he could hear Jack talking to someone in a hushed voice. _Odd,_ he thought to himself. He closed his chemistry textbook and just hopped off of his chair to go see what was up when Jack called to him.

"Alex, could you go to the living room for a second? Someone is here to talk to you."

Alex sighed, proceeding to head to the living room and settle himself in his favorite chair. Mrs. Jones or Alan Blunt had probably come to see him. He heard the door close and Jack walking back to the kitchen; the visitor's steps proceeded to the living room. He turned, expecting to see one of the two. That was when Alex nearly fell out of his chair.

Because it wasn't Alan Blunt or Mrs. Jones. It was Yassen Gregorovich.

He still looked the same as when Alex had seen him before his death. He was still tall, slim, and still had the same look in his blue eyes. Alex opened his mouth to speak, but Yassen interrupted him.

"I know what you are thinking, Alex. Please do not be alarmed."

Alex sat up straight in his seat. "But what about-"

"Let me tell you the whole story about my death, Alex. It is a bit different than you might think."

Alex nodded, still in shock.

"When we were on that plane, I know that you thought that I had died. It certainly appeared so. However, let me assure you that it was not as it appeared to be. Yes, I did become unconscious, but I was not dead. I was simply in a coma."

Alex frowned. "Then how come all of this time-"

"I know, I was gone for quite a while. But that is where Scorpia brought themselves into all of this."

Alex shuddered, feeling sick at hearing the name, but Yassen continued his story.

"Scorpia is always very thorough with their work. When a valuable member of their team dies, it is always confirmed. When Scorpia came to confirm my death, they realized that I wasn't dead, but in a coma. They flew me to one of the top hospitals in this country."

Alex nodded, trying to follow the whole story.

"I was in the hospital for weeks. They didn't know if I would wake up. Then one day, I just did. No one knows exactly how. But waking up didn't mean everything would be alright again. A couple of the top Scorpia agents came to talk to me. They said that it was my fault that everything with the plane had gone wrong and that they blamed me for you coming to Scorpia. They said that it was indirectly my fault that Mrs. Rothman was dead."

Alex sighed. He didn't know what to say. "That was my fault," he said quietly.

Yassen waved the comment away. "No, I sent you there; the fault was mine. Anyway, they told me that if they ever saw me again, they would kill me. You know how it is, Alex. Scorpia is everywhere. So I did the only thing left that I could do; I got the hell out of there."

Alex was now curious. "Why did you come here?" he asked Yassen.

Yassen seriously thought about that question for a second. "Honestly, I don't know. Part of me felt like I owed you an explanation."

They sat in silence for a moment. "What are you going to do now?" Alex asked.

Yassen shrugged. "No idea. I guess I will try to find a job of some sort."

That was when Alex suddenly had an idea. "Come with me and I'll get you a job at MI6," he told the Russian.

Yassen frowned. "Did you just say what I think you said?"

"I'm serious," Alex continued. "They might be willing to make you an agent."

"I seriously doubt that, Alex. MI6 will not be likely to hire the man who killed some of their agents. I doubt they will even let me in the front door."

"They will," Alex reassured him. "They will if you're with me."

Yassen raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Give me one chance," Alex pleaded. "One chance."

Yassen looked at him for a moment. "Why are you doing this for me? I am surprised that you don't hate me for all that I have put you through."

Alex smiled, but there was no humor in it. "I think that my father would have wanted me to give you a chance," he said simply.

Yassen considered this for a moment. Then he suddenly stood up. "One chance," he told Alex. "Just one." He held out his hand.

Alex stood up and shook it. Alex and Yassen shaking hands- it was a monumental moment.

Yassen reached into the pockets of his jeans and pulled out a piece of paper and a small pencil. He scribbled something on a piece of paper. "This is where you can find me," he said to Alex, handing him the paper. "You may come whenever you like."

"How about if I come to your place at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning and we go to MI6 then?" Alex asked, glancing at the paper.

"That would be fine," Yassen said, and turned and left the room. "I'll show myself out," he called.

Alex stood there, watching him go. Then he flopped down into his favorite chair and let out a shaky breath, thinking to himself.

_What have I just done?_

A/N: Like it? Hate it? Want me to burn it? Tell me in a review and maybe I'll update soon!


	2. Chapter 2: Unexpected Conversations

A/N: Yes, I'm setting a record for myself with all of these updates!! I thank you, my kind readers, for encouraging me onward with my story! Donuts to all of you!

Chapter Two: Unexpected Conversations

"Alex, I'm making breakfast!"

Alex Rider opened his eyes, sitting up in bed. He ruffled his hair and licked his lips. The smell of bacon was wafting up the stairs into his bedroom. He swung his feet out from underneath his bed covers and looked around for something to wear. Finally finding a pair of jeans and his green Adidas t-shirt, he proceeded to follow the wonderful smell downstairs. He found Jack tipping a pan of scrambled eggs onto a plate with toast and bacon.

Alex yawned. "What time is it?"

Jack set his plate on the table. "Nine. You told me you wanted me to wake you up now, remember?"

Alex nodded. Today was Saturday, so he thankfully didn't have to miss school to go see MI6 with Yassen. He hadn't told Jack about that whole thing yet; he didn't want her to get mad at him for getting involved with MI6 again.

"So, what are you going to do today?" she asked him.

"Oh, I'm meeting up with an old friend," Alex said casually, with a mouthful of toast.

"That's good," said Jack. "You need to be around people your own age. All of your time with MI6 has been taking the fun out of your life."

Alex didn't have the heart to tell her, nor did he think that she would respond well if he told her that he was actually meeting up with the number one adult assassin in the world. It didn't seem like a good thing to say.

Upon finishing his breakfast, he put his plate in the sink. "I'm going to get a shower," he told Jack.

"Alright," she answered.

After taking a nice hot shower and getting dressed again, he glanced at the clock. It was nine forty-five; he guessed that he should leave to go find wherever Yassen lived.

"Bye Jack," he called as he walked out the door. "I'll be back later this afternoon."

"Have fun," she called, "and don't go finding trouble!"

Alex frowned. He didn't find trouble, trouble usually found him. He pulled his bike out of the garage, hopped on to it, and took off down the driveway.

Alex pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket that Yassen had given him yesterday. Reading the address, Alex could tell that where Yassen was staying was nearby. Alex continues to ride down the street in what he supposed was the correct direction when he saw a sign that said 'Crestwing Ave.' Alex glanced at the paper; it apparently was where Yassen was staying. Pulling onto the road, he didn't have to travel far. The road stopped at an apartment building.

He glanced down at the paper again, but there wasn't an apartment number listed. Looking up, Alex saw why. Yassen was leaning casually against the side of the building, right next to the main doors, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. Alex pulled his bike over and chained it to a wire fence that lay on the outskirts of the parking lot. He then walked over to Yassen.

"Ready?" Alex asked.

Yassen nodded. "We will take my car," he said, pulling a pair of keys from his jeans pocket. "Follow me."

He led Alex around the back of the apartment building, walking past several cars, eventually stopping at a black Ferrari. Alex gaped at him.

"You drive a Ferrari?" he asked in disbelief.

"I like expensive things," Yassen told him. "Luxury is my style."

Alex smiled to himself, getting in the passenger seat. "You do know where MI6 headquarters is, right?" he asked the Russian.

"I know a lot of things," Yassen replied as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. "And knowing where MI6 is located is one of them, yes."

Alex was brimming with questions for the Russian, but he figured that now wouldn't be the best time to ask, so he kept to himself for the ride.

Exactly five minutes and twelve seconds later, they pulled in front of the "bank." Yassen and Alex both got out. Alex turned to the Russian. "You're just going to leave it there?" he said glancing at the car.

"It's locked," Yassen told him, "but if someone really wants to steal it then I won't stop them. I've been in the mood for a new car anyway, particularly a yellow Porsche."

Alex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Time to get into business mode. "Aright, when we get in here, let me do the talking," he told Yassen.

Yassen nodded, his eyes becoming expressionless, as only his could.

The pair walked through the doors, and Alex walked up to the receptionist at the desk.

"How may I help you?" she inquired politely.

"Alex Rider, Special Operations Division, here to see Alan Blunt and Tulip Jones," Alex rattled off, with the air of someone who did so every day.

The receptionist gestured towards Yassen. "Is he with you?"

"Yes," replied Alex. "Although I cannot tell you why, that information remains confidential."

The receptionist nodded. "Proceed up to the office, then," she told him.

Alex and Yassen rode the elevator all the way up to the Special Operations floor. Alex glanced at Yassen; he looked slightly uncomfortable, and Alex could understand why.

Alex led Yassen down the hall to Blunt's room, pausing outside the door and knocking. He turned to Yassen. "Stay outside here until I call you in," he told the Russian. "I need to at least tell them what I'm doing here."

Alex heard the familiar "Come In!," glanced at Yassen, who nodded, and opened the door and walked inside.

Alan Blunt and Mrs. Jones were in conversation when he walked in, only to stop talking and look up. Alex could see the surprise on their faces.

"Alex, my dear boy," Blunt exclaimed, "What on earth brings you here?"

"We need to talk," he told the pair in a businesslike tone. "I need a favor."

Mrs. Jones glanced at Blunt. "Well, as long as it's not a crazy request, we can probably do you the favor," she told him. "What's up?"

Alex took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I need you to give someone I know a job here at MI6."

Blunt and Mrs. Jones looked taken aback. "Alex, you know that we just can't be handing out jobs here like free cookies," Blunt told him. "We just don't do that to average people."

"But this person is definitely not part of the average population. He would exceed all of your qualifying expectations."

Mrs. Jones frowned. "I don't know about his, Alex."

"I brought him with me today," he told them. "He's right outside the door."

Blunt sighed. "Alright, let's see the mystery person."

Alex gave them a small smile. "Oh, he's no mystery," he said, and then called, "Come on in!"

When Yassen walked into the room Alex watched Alan Blunt's jaw drop and Mrs. Jones stop sucking on her peppermint.

"And don't even think about calling security," Alex added, watching Blunt's fingers edge towards the phone.

"Hello," added Yassen politely. "I believe Alex told you why we are both here."

Mrs. Jones was the first to speak. "What on earth do you think you're doing, Alex? And how are you alive?" she added to Yassen.

Yassen pulled up a chair and sat down at the table. "It is a long story."

Alan Blunt seemed to have recovered himself. "Absolutely not, Alex. Whatever you say, we cannot give this man, who should I perhaps mention is the number one assassin in the world, a job. No way."

Mrs. Jones frowned at him. "Let's at least hear what they have to say, Alan."

And so, Alex and Yassen both launched into a story about how Yassen survived, only to be rejected by Scorpia and forced to run for his life, and how Alex offered to get him a job at MI6 because he wanted some sort of work.

When they finished, Blunt still had the same expression on his face; however, Mrs. Jones looked thoughtful. "Alex and Yassen, could you both give Alan and me a moment alone to talk about this?"

The two nodded. "We'll be in the hallway," Alex added. He walked out of the room; Yassen followed him and closed the door behind him.

"They're going to say no," he told Alex, and Alex thought that he could almost detect a trace of defeat in his voice.

"Of course they're not, don't be stupid. The two of them know that if they don't give you a job, then they have basically signed my release forms, because I'm not working for them if they don't cooperate."

Alex could have sworn that he saw the faintest hint of a smile on the Russian's lips, but there was no time to dwell on it, as they were both called back into the room. They returned to their seats, and suddenly Blunt spoke and everything changed.

"We have decided, under the circumstances, to give Yassen a job here at MI6," he told them, and Alex could hear the resignation in his voice.

"But with one condition, Alex," Mrs. Jones said. "Whatever mission we send him on, you have to go with him for the first time. Just as a precaution."

Alex nodded, realizing that this was as good as it was going to get. "Alright, when are you sending us on a mission?"

Alan Blunt tapped a manila folder in front of him. "We've got one right here," he told Alex and Yassen, "and you'll be starting this one tomorrow."

Alex sighed and looked at Yassen. The Russian had an amused expression on his face. Alex turned back to Blunt.

"Alright then, tell us what we've got to do."

A/N: Whee!! That was my longest entry EVER, coming in at 1,687 words! I hope you enjoyed it, my friends, and as always, I love reviews!!


	3. Chapter 3: Isn't That Convenient?

A/N: Well, I'm back! I hope I didn't make you wait too long…and I'll try to keep this chapter as long as the last one! Lots and lots of hugs to my reviewers- I wish I could give each of you a black Ferrari just like Yassen's!

Chapter Three: Isn't That Convenient?

Alan Blunt leaned forward in his seat, opening the manila folder and taking out a color photo. He slid the picture across the table to Alex and Yassen. "Do you know who this man is?" he asked them.

Alex shook his head, but Yassen was quick to respond. "Alexander Chrazeski, Polish Immigrant, currently lives in Berlin, Germany," he recited from memory. "Sixth richest man in the world."

Mrs. Jones' jaw dropped slightly. Alex could tell that Blunt was also surprised- but he was doing a poor job at hiding it.

"Yes, yes; you're correct," Blunt continued, regaining his composure. "Might you know what he does for a living?"

But it was Alex who responded first this time. "He owns a machinery business, I think," he said, trying to remember his facts.

Mrs. Jones stepped in. "A highly successful business, I'd like to add. His company, called Chrazeski Machinery, manufactures everything from lawn tractors to trains. They ship all over the world. Chrazeski makes billions upon billions; he just donated 1 billion to the government last week."

Alex whistled. "Now there's a lot of cash; what's this got to do with the mission?"

Blunt coughed. "I was getting to that," he said. Opening the folder, he pulled out two more pictures- a man and a woman. Alex and Yassen peered closely. "Any relation between the two?" Yassen asked.

"Not in the way that you might think," Blunt told him. "Let's start off with this woman." He pointed to the first picture. "She's a journalist by the name of Carrie Brovensk. She works for the top news reporting station in Germany. As it so happens, she planned to go for an unscheduled interview at Chrazeski's compound, but all did not go on as planned."

"Let me guess," said Alex with a laugh. "She goes missing?"

Blunt frowned at him. "Actually, she turned up dead in a river three days ago."

The smile was wiped off Alex's face like a window washed free of dirt. Yassen leaned forward in his seat, not saying a word.

Blunt turned to the second picture. It depicted a man in running shorts. "This man," Blunt told them, "is Michael Starling. He was visiting Berlin on vacation. Every morning he goes for a run, passing the compound as he does so."

Alex resisted the urge to ask if this man also turned up dead in a river. However, he didn't have to ask; Blunt answered his question for him.

"The man went out one morning for his usual run, except that he never came home. He hasn't been found."

"The point is, Alex and Yassen," said Mrs. Jones, "that both of these suspicious occurrences both involve the Chrazeski compound. One time might have been a coincidence, but two times and there's something going on."

Yassen spoke for the first time in over 5 minutes. "Why doesn't the government do something?" he asked.

"Because Chrazeski just donated over a billion dollars to them, see?" said Blunt. "They well know that if they were to conduct a search or investigation of the man that they would lose the donated money, and they're not about to do that, let me tell you. That man is clever, at least. Almost to the point of blackmail, but still clever."

"So this is where you come in," continues Mrs. Jones. "We're asking you to go to the Chrazeski compound and take a look around- nothing major, of course. We just want you to check and see if there's anything suspicious going on, and if there is, you'll contact us and we'll send in a team of men. We don't want both of you to disappear like these two," she said, tapping the pictures on the table.

"Nice try," admitted Alex, "but Chrazeski won't let us into the compound if we go up and knock politely at his front door."

"And we've got you covered there," Blunt told the two agents. "You'll be traveling under false names." He pulled two more manila folders from under his desk, putting one in front of Alex and one in front of Yassen. "These are your new identities," he told them as they opened the folders.

Alex looked at the picture of his new identity. "Christopher Blakeley?" He looked at the picture. The young boy in the photo had hair like his, but blue eyes. Alex frowned. "This person has blue eyes," he told Blunt.

Blunt looked at Alex. "So?" he asked, as if this made no difference.

"So? In case you haven't noticed," Alex said, "mine are brown."

Blunt waved this comment away like a fly. "Contacts will change that," he said in an indifferent tone.

Yassen was still scanning his file. "Ethan Blakeley, age 35, successful British businessman, has a son named Christopher. Just bought 4 million worth of machinery for a builder and contractor's business." Yassen peered at the folder. "He looks somewhat like me," he said. Alex glanced at the picture, only to find that he was right, and the man did indeed have blond hair and blue eyes. Yassen frowned. "Is this Ethan Blakeley a real person?"

"Yes," replied Mrs. Jones. "However, he won't be in your way; he knows all about this plan and he's agreed to let you go ahead with it."

"And I bet he said yes just like that," said Alex sarcastically, snapping his fingers.

"He, uh, needed a little persuasion," said Blunt uncomfortably, "but he agreed to it once we, uh, made him a deal."

Yassen narrowed his eyes at Blunt, but Alex made the move first. "What sort of deal?" he asked suspiciously.

"A trip to the Caribbean," Mrs. Jones told them. "It's not important."

Yassen said something under his breath, but Alex couldn't tell what it was.

Blunt looked at both of them. "I think that will be all," he concluded. "You should head on down to see Smithers; I think that he'll have a few things for you."

Alex and Yassen both stood up, each in turn shaking Blunt's and Mrs. Jones' hands. "Good luck," Mrs. Jones told them, and in Alex's ear she whispered, "Be safe."

Identity files in hand, Alex led Yassen down the hall toward Smithers' office. Yassen turned to Alex. "I should congratulate you," he said, with the ever so slightest bit of admiration in his voice. "I really didn't think that you would be able to get me a job."

"Yeah, well, I've done a lot of things that people haven't expected," Alex said, smiling to himself and opening the door to Smithers' office.

Upon walking into the room, Alex immediately had to duck, as a bird with a beak looking as sharp as a knife swooped down by him, returning to his perch. Smithers, who was going through a box on his desk, looked up.

"Alex, my good man!" he exclaimed, a smile lighting his pudgy face, "how good to see you! And who's this?" he inquired, as Yassen warily stepped up beside Alex.

"This is my, uh, partner for a new mission," said Alex, confused why Smithers didn't know who Yassen was. Then he realized that Blunt was not likely to inform this man exactly who Alex was working with, because it would be a lot easier. "I presume you knew that we were coming?" Alex said hopefully.

"Of course, my boy," Smithers told him, reaching into the box. "Now come over here, and let's see what we can do! Oh, of course," he said when he saw Alex glance over at the bird again. He pressed a button on his desk, and the bird appeared to go to sleep. "That's my guard bird," he told Alex and Yassen, "but he doesn't exactly know the difference between friend and foe yet!" Smithers said, chuckling to himself.

Alex and Yassen approached the desk. "First of all," Smithers told them, handing them each an envelope, "Those are your plane tickets to Berlin, Germany. You leave tomorrow morning at 5am," he said, and Alex groaned. He hated mornings. Then Smithers turned to him, handing Alex a small cardboard box. "I believe these are your contacts. Go put in a pair and we'll see how they look."

Alex walked over to the only mirror in the room, and pulled a pair of contacts from the box. After carefully putting them in, he looked in the mirror but couldn't help a small gasp- his eyes were light blue.

Alex looked around, but amazingly, he could find no flaw to his new blue eyes. He walked back over to Yassen and looked at him. "What do you think?" he asked the Russian.

Yassen raised an eyebrow. "Impressive," he told Alex, "Although you do look better with brown eyes, I must admit."

Alex grinned and turned back to Smithers. "Can we get to the good part now?"

"Of course, of course, said Smithers, pulling an object out of the box. It appeared to be an ordinary iPod touch. He handed it to Alex, who took it cautiously.

"Not the ixPlod?" Alex asked warily.

"No, no, actually this one's pretty harmless. Open the battery compartment and you'll find 4 little colored chips in there. The chips are actually self-adhesive cameras; you can stick them to any surface. Then, all you have to do is switch on the "hold" button on the iPod, and the camera mode will be activated. Every camera's picture appears on the screen."

Alex was pleased with the gadget, but he had one more question. "Does it actually play music?"

"Of course it does," said Smithers, reaching back into the box. He pulled out a pair of sunglasses next, and handed them to Yassen. "These," Smithers explained, "Are infrared-sensor sunglasses. Put them on, and you'll be able to see and detect any source of heat, even through walls."

Yassen put the glasses on and looked around the room. "Thank you," he said. "These will be useful."

But Smithers was already reaching back inside the box. "One more thing," he told them. He pulled out some brightly colored wrapped candies. "These," he said, giving a few to Alex and a few to Yassen, "are like little explosives. Once you take the wrapper off, it activates the timer, and there's a 15 second timer. They may look small, but they can blow a lock off of a door with ease."

Alex and Yassen nodded, pocketing their items. "Thanks again, Mr. Smithers," Alex said. "You've been a great help."

"Anytime, my boy!" Smithers called as Alex and Yassen left the room.

The agents made their way down to the lobby and out of the bank doors. To Alex's satisfaction, Yassen's Ferrari was still there.

"Oh well," said Yassen indifferently as they got into the car. "I guess I won't be getting a new car today."

Alex shook his head, looking out of the window as Yassen drove back to his apartment. When they reached the parking lot and the car was parked, Alex got out of the car. Yassen turned to him. "What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?" the Russian asked.

Alex shrugged. "I suppose 4am is okay," he said. "I'm guessing we need to get to the airport early."

Yassen nodded. "Alright," he said. "See you then," he told Alex, and disappeared into the apartment building.

Alex got back on his bike and started on the ride back to his house. He wondered what he was going to tell Jack. She'd be so disappointed when he told her that he was involved with MI6 again. She'd probably try to talk him out of it, but it was too late.

When Alex reached his house, he pulled his bike into his garage and stopped at the front door. Taking a deep breath, he opened it and stepped inside. "Jack?" Alex called. "Jack?"

There was no answer, but when Alex stepped into the entrance hall, he saw that a note had been left on the table by the door. Alex read it:

_Alex,_

_I've gone out with a couple of friends to see a movie and go out for lunch. Hope you had a great day, and I'll be home by 5!_

_Love,_

_Jack XXX_

Alex sighed. At least now he had a chance to postpone his talk with Jack. He glanced at the clock- it was 1:30 now. Walking into the kitchen, he pulled out a leftover chicken salad, sat down at the bar, and began to eat. He thought about what he was going to tell Jack, and how he should approach this.

After finishing his salad, he went into the living room and sat down in his chair. He was feeling bored; there wasn't much to do, really. He relaxed in the chair, feeling sleepy. He really knew he should pack for tomorrow…he should finish his homework…when Jack got home…he was…sleepy…

Alex had fallen asleep.

When Alex awoke, he sleepily rubbed his eyes and looked out the window. The sun was starting to set. He heard noise in the kitchen and knew it was Jack. A sudden sense of dread filled his stomach as he set off toward the kitchen to tell her the news.

When Alex walked into the kitchen she was at the stove, cooking what smelled like tacos. Alex pulled out a seat at the bar; Jack turned around when she heard the chair scrape the floor.

"Awake now? I bet you're tired after a long day. I've made tacos for dinner," she said, piling meat onto a plate and dishing out toppings. "How was your day today?" she asked, setting Alex's plate in front of him.

Alex picked up his fork as if to eat, but then set it back down. "There's…something I have to tell you," he finished hesitantly.

Jack looked at him, concern in her eyes. "Is everything alright?" she inquired.

Alex decided to just come out with the news. "I'm, well…I'm going on another mission for MI6 again, and I leave tomorrow morning," he rushed.

Jack took a second to comprehend this, and then set her fork down on the table and sighed. "Why, Alex?" she asked quietly. "Why do you keep agreeing to do this?"

Alex avoided her eyes. "You know I don't have a choice, Jack," he told her gently. "Besides, I feel like I have to go on this mission. This one is, well, special."

"But what's special about another mission?" Jack asked sadly. "What's different about this one that makes it special?"

Alex hesitated. "I'm working with another agent," Alex said quietly. "One that knew my father very well, and I'm hoping to gain some information about him."

Jack didn't say anything. "Jack?" he asked softly.

Jack looked up at him. "I can see that this means a lot to you, Alex, and if you feel that you need to do this, then you should."

Alex felt happier at this. He glanced at his plate, no longer hungry. Standing up and walking over to the fridge, he placed the taco inside. He closed the door and walked out of the kitchen, giving Jack a hug in the process. She gave him a small smile. "Just be careful," she said.

"I will be," Alex told her. Alex then went up to his room to pack.

Once Alex was in his room, he dug his sports duffel bag out of his closet. He then went through his closet, picking out random, inconspicuous clothes. By time he was done, he has packed four shirts, three pairs of pants, and an extra pair of tennis shoes. Alex stashed his new iPod in his duffel, laid his plane ticket on the bag, and tried to think if he was forgetting something. His passport! After looking through his dresser, he found it; he then put it with his plane ticket.

Alex lay down on the bed. He wasn't really tired, but he figured he should get some sleep; he'd be getting up quite early tomorrow. He stared at the ceiling, willing himself to sleep. He laid there, trying to clear his mind...

And it was working. Alex yawned and rolled over on his side. He could feel himself getting drowsy…

Within ten minutes, Alex Rider was asleep.

A/N: Wowsy! Almost 3,000 words- that's almost twice as long as my last chapter!! Was this chapter long enough, too short, or too long? Was it boring, exciting, or just "blah"? What do you think? Please share in a review!!


	4. Chapter 4: Agents on a Plane

A/N: Well, I've even surprised myself, but I was randomly sitting at my computer late tonight and I felt this need to update! I've tried to smooth out some of the plot wrinkles that my reviewers have so kindly pointed out! As usual, I absolutely love my reviewers, and if I could I'd start handing out black Ferraris to thank you all!

Chapter Four: Agents on a Plane

_Beeeep. Beeeep._

When Alex's alarm clock went off the following morning at precisely 3:15am, he was not in a good mood.

_Damn,_ he thought to himself. _Getting up early is definitely not my style._

Carefully making his way to the shower as not to trip and fall, he stepped in and let the hot water pour over him. It was relaxing, and Alex had to fight the urge to want to sleep standing up. After taking a shower and dressing again, he stumbled carefully downstairs in search of breakfast. After finding some Cheerios, he put them in a bowl and poured milk overtop of them. He sat and ate his breakfast, staring vacantly off into space.

It was when Alex had put the bowl in the sink that he saw the note from Jack, lying on the kitchen countertop. He opened it and read it. It was a quick note, simply telling him to be safe and stay out of trouble. Alex sighed. Trouble was with him wherever he went; it just couldn't be avoided.

Alex glanced at the clock. It was 3:50. He decided that he should get his bag and bring it down to the kitchen. Trudging up the steps, he made it to his room in the dark. After retrieving his bag and bringing it downstairs, he took out his folder on his new identity and began to review it. There could be no mess-ups when pretending to be someone else that was real, and Alex knew it. Any mistake could be fatal.

Alex was feeling rather sleepy again, and had just drifted into a trance when a knock came at the door. Alex knew that it would be Yassen; he shouldered his bag, stashed his identity folder in the secret compartment between the refrigerator and the wall, and walked out of the house.

Yassen was standing patiently by his black Ferrari, as usual. When he saw Alex he took his bag and put it in the trunk. Alex saw another duffel bag in there, which had to be Yassen's.

Alex climbed into the passenger seat of the car, all while still in his morning daze. As Yassen pulled out of the driveway, he turned to Alex. "Do you have your plane ticket?" he asked. He sounded rather awake to Alex.

"Yeah," said Alex, and yawned. "Why are you so perky?"

Yassen shrugged. "I've been up since 2 o' clock."

Alex frowned. "And why would you even do such a thing?" he asked with a trace of disgust in his voice.

"You see, I never sleep for more than 4 hours at a time," Yassen told Alex. "The night is just too valuable. I can do all sorts of things during that useful time."

"How are you able to do it?" Alex asked, yawning again.

"I'm used to it," Yassen told him simply.

"Then what do you do during that time?" Alex persisted.

Yassen thought for a second. "All kinds of things. I can busy myself with hacking into government files, researching other people, buying new weapons-"

"Whoa, that's enough," said Alex. "I'd rather not know."

"Suit yourself," Yassen told him, with the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

Alex remained silent and sleepy for the rest of the trip. When they pulled into the airport, there were also a few other people there. Taking their bags, the agents made their way inside and up to the counter. "We're on flight number 646, to Berlin, Germany," Yassen said, placing his and Alex's ticket onto the counter.

The woman at the desk looked up. "One moment please," she said, taking the tickets and typing something into the computer. "Oh, yes," she said. "You'll not be needing to put your carry-on bags through the security scanner. Can I see your passports?"

Alex smiled slightly. Their information on the computer had obviously displayed that they were with MI6. Yassen handed over the passports. The woman took them and put them somewhere below the desk, and Alex thought he heard the click of a key turning in a lock. "Here you go," the woman said, handing their passports back.

Alex glanced briefly at his new passport. It wasn't even his- it was Christopher Blakeley's.

"Right this way," the woman said. She led them to a terminal and whispered something to one of the guards by the terminal. The guard looked up and smiled at them. "Right this way, please," he told Alex and Yassen.

Alex really did have to admit, being with MI6 did sometimes have its perks. But the situation only improved as Alex and Yassen were shown to two luxurious-looking seats in what was obviously first class.

"If you need anything, our stewardess will be happy to help, or you may press the call button," the guard said, and exited the plane. A young woman dressed in an airline uniform made her way over to them. "Anything I can do for you, Mr. Blakeley and Mr. Blakeley?" She smiled at them. "We still have about 20 minutes until our other passengers start boarding the plane."

Both Alex and Yassen shook their heads no. However, Alex liked this deal where she called him by his "last name." He considered pushing the button a few times during the flight to put this idea to work.

"Can I sit on the outside?" Yassen asked Alex. "I like to be able to see what's going on."

"Sure," replied Alex, knowing that this was Yassen's instincts from his days as an assassin coming into play. Alex sat down in the seat and immediately relaxed. It was very comfy. Alex pulled his new iPod touch out of his bag, pushed the bag under the seat, and settled himself in the comfy seat.

A little while later, other people started boarding the plane. There weren't many people on the plane when Alex looked; a lot of the seats were empty. Alex liked it this way because it was always more peaceful.

The passengers didn't have to wait long before the plane taxied down the runway and took off. Alex was enjoying himself in his chair, and when he looked at Yassen, the Russian even looked relaxed- feeling satisfied, Alex sat quietly and listened to his iPod.

Not much happened during the flight. Alex knew that the air time would take about three and a half hours- considering the time change and when the had left, this would mean that the plane would arrive in Berlin around 9am. Sometime into the flight, Alex amused himself by pushing the service button and watching the stewardess rush over; he ordered an orange juice. Alex could tell that Yassen was having a difficult time resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Alex laughed and listened to his music once again.

Alex was halfway through Hummel's Trumpet Concerto in E when Yassen spoke. "You should probably put your contacts in," he told Alex.

Alex nodded and yawned, pulling his case out of his bag. He headed toward the plane's tiny bathroom. He squeezed himself in and used the mirror to put the contacts in; he was just beginning to get claustrophobic when he stepped out of the bathroom and returned to his seat. Yassen glanced at Alex, giving him a nod of approval. "Perfect blues," he told Alex.

Alex put his iPod and the contacts case back in his bag. "Quiz me on my identity," he told Yassen, turning in his seat to face the Russian.

Yassen turned to face Alex. "All right," he said. "Let me think of a question." He paused. "How old are you, what it you dog's name, and what does your mother do for a living?"

Alex knew these; they were easy questions. "I am fifteen, I have a dog named Bailey, and my mom is a lawyer. "Give me another question."

Yassen thought again. "What school do you attend?"

Alex knew this as well. "Fairwood Academy. Ask me something hard."

Yassen frowned in concentration. "Here you go," he told Alex with a smirk on his face. "What's my full name?"

Alex thought for a second. "Hmm…Ethan...Lawrence Blakeley. Ha! I knew that one, and that wasn't even in my profile!"

Yassen raised an eyebrow. "Then how did you know?" he asked.

"I remember reading it on your file yesterday." Alex smiled, eyes narrowed in satisfaction.

Yassen nodded. "You're ready, then," he told Alex. "Just remember your stuff."

Alex nodded. Suddenly the captain came on over the speakers. "I'd like to inform you, my passengers, that we are about 15 minutes from Berlin, Germany. Please set your watches ahead 3 hours."

There was a rustle among the passengers as they did so, and then all was quiet again.

The plane landed smoothly, pulling over on the tarmac to one of the terminals. The passengers each went through customs check. It was a fast ordeal, and the security guards glanced briefly at the passports- they then stamped them and let the passengers move on.

When Alex and Yassen stepped out into the public are of the terminal, they lingered around for a second, until they suddenly saw a man approaching them. "You are Mr. Ethan Blakeley?" the man asked with a slight German accent.

"Yes," replied Yassen in a flawless, accent-free, British tone. "And this is my son, Christopher."

Alex glanced at the man. He looked about forty-five, had brown hair and dark brown eyes. "Follow me," the man said.

He led them outside where a blue car was waiting. The man took their luggage and put it in the back; Alex and Yassen climbed into the back seats. When the man pulled out of the airport and onto the highway, he spoke. "It is an honor to have you here, Mr. Blakeley," he said. "We are so glad you could some in person to see your new equipment."

"The pleasure is mine," Yassen replied coolly. "I like to make sure my business runs properly."

They sat in silence for the rest of the ride. Alex glanced outside of the window in time to see that the car was pulling into a very large driveway surrounded by many industrial-looking buildings.

"Where are we?" he asked the driver politely, already guessing the answer.

The driver cleared his throat. "Welcome to the Chrazeski compound," he told the agents.

A/N: Yeah, I thought that I'd stop here. This is around 1,800 words, but I figured I'd stop or it would end up like the last chapter! Reviews please, and as always, flames will be used to make myself a Hot Pocket!


	5. Chapter 5: Orange Juice is Not a Drug

A/N: Sorry about the wait- my flash drive crashed and I lost a few of my chapters!! So, I'm rewriting this one and trying to remember how everything went…ugh. Anyway, I hope you like it! (P.S. - My birthday is tomorrow- July 11th!)

Chapter Five: Orange Juice is Not a Drug

As they drove through the compound, Alex noticed Yassen staring out the window. Alex knew that the Russian was making a mental map of the compound. Alex sighed, resigning to looking out of the window as well.

The car slowed to a stop in front of a rather large, tan building. It could have been a hotel. Alex was given no more time to ponder this thought when the car door suddenly swung open. Alex looked at Yassen; he nodded and Alex stepped out of the car. Alex squinted as the bright sunlight hit him in the face. Before him was a man in a blue suit- fair hair, mid forties, Alex guessed.

"Follow me," said Suit-Man, walking around to the car's trunk and picking up their bags. He led them inside the hotel-like building; Alex and Yassen had to watch as they walked. People were _everywhere._

"You should know that this is our convention center, complete with lodging and meeting rooms," Suit-Man told them. "I'm sorry about all of the people, but tomorrow Mr. Chrazeski is having his annual Technology Conference, in which he introduces his new line of machinery."

"No problem," replied Yassen indifferently.

Suit-Man led them away from the crowd and up three flights of stairs. "The elevator will be busy," he explained. He led them down a hallway, finally stopping at a door. Alex read the number- Room 426. Before Alex could comment, Suit-Man was talking.

"My sincere apologies extend to the both of you; however, we are so busy this weekend that we have been forced to put you both in the same room."

Alex wanted to groan. Sure, he didn't mind the Russian, but sharing a room with him didn't exactly make his "top ten" list of favorite things to do.

Suit-Man inserted a card into the electronic lock and opened the door. When Alex stepped into the hotel room, he had to admit that it was very nice. It looked more like a small, open apartment. There was a bedroom with two beds and a desk, a small living room, a fairly large bathroom, and a mini kitchen. "I hope everything will be alright," Suit-Man told them. If you need anything, just use the phone to call the desk." He deposited their bags next to the wall, laid the key card on the coffee table, and left the room.

Yassen signaled to Alex to be quiet, and started to search the room for bugs of any kind. After conducting a quick but thorough search of the whole room, he nodded at Alex. "We're good."

Alex, feeling rather hyper, (maybe it was the lack of sleep or the orange juice he had on the plane,) immediately ran over to the fluffy bad nearest bed and jumped in the center of it. Yassen looked at him and rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Alex," he snapped, "you are not a five year old at a mattress convention. You are here for a purpose."

"Yassen, I will tell you right now, that I have had about 3 hours sleep and a glass of what could possibly have been spiked orange juice. Do not interrupt my enjoyment of this."

Yassen sighed and sat down on the edge of the other bed. He ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair, deep in thought.

Suddenly, the hotel room's phone rang. Yassen glanced at Alex and quickly snatched the phone.

"Hello?" he asked, his accent back in play.

Few words were exchanges. Yassen listened, replying "Alright. We will be there," and hanging up.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?"

Yassen looked at him, getting off the edge of the bed. "Get dressed, and I mean in a suit. We have kindly been invited to brunch."

Alex groaned and buried his face in the pillow. "Do I have to go?"  
Yassen glared at him. "What do you think? I'll pretend you did not just ask that."

Alex sighed, walking over and retrieving his duffel bag from beside the wall.

Twenty minutes later, Yassen and Alex were standing in the hotel's lobby. Both were dressed in black suits, looking like quite the business people.

"Remind me what we're doing again?" asked Alex, dodging a lady in a blue dress and pink tights.

"We're being picked up by the same driver from this morning. Then we will go to Chrazeski's office building, where we will have brunch."

Alex tugged at his suit. "And why do I have to wear this again?" he said, frowning.

Yassen shot him a look. "Because…you're my son."

Yassen thought about those words for a second. They had almost a strange feel when they rolled off his tongue. He'd never had any children, or any serious relationships, for that matter, and that wasn't going to change. Although he couldn't forget about the promise he'd made John Rider, all those years ago…

A car pulled up in front of the hotel. Shaking his head free of his personal life and slipping back into his professional one, he looked at Alex, nodded, and led the way out of the door.

The car was the same as before. Yassen and Alex both slid into the back seat, pulled the doors shut, and they were off. They were once again driving through a different part of the compound. Yassen was also expanding his mental map. Alex resisted the urge to tug at his suit; it didn't give him a very good range of motion if something were to happen.

The drive was a short one; the car stopped this time at a high-tech looking silver building. It was even bigger than the hotel, and it had to be around 15 stories high. The door was opened again, but this time on Yassen's side. The two agents got out and looked around them.

At first, Alex thought that the man who opened the door was Suit-Man, (whom he had seen earlier,) but it was just another guy in a blue suit, this time with ginger hair and green eyes.

"Follow me," the man said in a smooth voice. "Mr. Chrazeski is waiting."

Alex and Yassen followed the man inside, and immediately Alex knew that it was indeed a high-tech facility. Men everywhere were dressed in blue suits, most wore sunglasses, and in Alex's opinion, they all looked rather strict.

The new Suit-Man led Yassen and Alex into an elevator. There was a keypad that needed a password to even operate the elevator; Alex noticed Yassen watched this very carefully, although Alex doubted that he could see anything with the man standing in front of the keyboard. Then, all of a sudden, the elevator whizzed off upward. Alex glanced at the lights overhead and watched them go up. Third floor…sixth floor…tenth floor…the elevator finally came to a halt at the twelfth floor, the doors sliding open silently.

Alex and Yassen were led down a hallway, through a set of doors, and down another hallway until they came to a set of closed French doors. New Suit-Man turned to Yassen and Alex. "Wait here," he said in an expressionless voice.

He disappeared into the room, only to reappear en seconds later. "Go in," he told them.

Yassen looked at Alex, giving him a look that said, _Anything out of the ordinary and I'll personally break your neck. _Alex laughed to himself; Yassen must have been worried about the orange juice incident. He took a deep breath and followed Yassen inside.

The first thing he saw was that the room he was standing in was actually quite large. There was a long table to one side of the room, and a small sitting room to the other. Beneath their feet was a floor of sparkly white marble; it clicked underfoot.

And then there was Alexander Chrazeski. Alex stood there, finally seeing the man for the first time. He looked about forty, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was seated at the table, and looked up when they had walked in. A smile spread across his face; he rose from his chair and came over to greet them.

"Ethan Blakeley!" he said, shaking Yassen's hand heartily, "What a pleasure! It's not every day I have someone buy 4 million's worth," he added, smiling. Then Chrazeski turned to Alex. "You must be Christopher! I've heard good things about you, boy!"

Alex put on a smile, shaking the man's hand. Chrazeski turned back to Yassen. "Well, you didn't come all of the way here for nothing, Mr. Blakeley, so let's eat, and then we can talk business!" he said, leading them over to the table.

Alex glared at Yassen behind Chrazeski's back. "Business?" he mouthed.

Yassen gave him a grim but apologetic smile. Then, Alex didn't know how it happened, but a bunch of women dressed in white and blue uniforms came bustling into the room from a side door, carrying dozens of plates. Alex sat down beside Yassen at the table, watching as plates upon plates were put on the table. Alex knew he shouldn't look surprised; he was supposed to be the son of a very rich man who probably did such things all of the time. When the women left, Alex gazed around him, deciding what to eat or drink. He mulled this thought over while pouring himself a glass of milk; he didn't really want to drink orange juice again.

Alex finally settled on toast with orange marmalade and some eggs. He also snagged a piece of bacon from a nearby plate. The food was very good; Alex also had a second piece of toast. He looked over at Yassen. The Russian was nibbling a piece of bacon, and there were eggs and sausage on his plate, but he didn't appear to be touching them.

After the meal, the women who had served them earlier rushed into the room and cleared the table. Chrazeski was the first to speak.

"So, Mr. Blakely, are you going to stay for the convention tomorrow?"

"Call me Ethan," Yassen replied smoothly. "And yes, we will be staying."

Alex was listening, even though it appeared as he was playing the "bored son" act. He wanted to know all of the details.

"Good, good," Chrazeski replied. "And will you be talking a look at your new equipment?"

"I would like that, yes," Yassen replied. "It would be good to see what my 4 million has bought."

A few more words were exchanged, and then the two men stood, shaking hands. Alex stood as well, following Yassen out of the room. Chrazeski closed the door swiftly behind them.

Alex knew he couldn't talk to Yassen until they were back in the hotel room, so he followed Yassen back downstairs. Alex couldn't explain why, but he was feeling drowsy. Maybe it was from eating all of the food, and the lack of sleep. Alex followed Yassen out to where the car was waiting. They made the ride back to the hotel in silence.

Alex was really starting to feel drowsy. He stared out of the window, mindlessly watching buildings go by. Once out of the car, he wasn't really aware of what was going on around him, and he almost bumped into more than a few people in the lobby. He blindly followed Yassen upstairs, his feet trudging on the steps. Once they made it to the room, Yassen closed the door and locked it behind them. The Russian turned to him.

Alex could see the instantaneous reaction in the man's eyes. "Alex, are you okay?" he asked the teen. "What's wrong?" There was no mistaking it; he was concerned.

Alex felt like he had just ran 15 miles; he felt more tired than he ever had in his life. His vision was fading; he tried to talk to Yassen. But his lips wouldn't form the words. His vision was turning black…

Yassen caught the boy around the waist before he hit the floor.

A/N: Ha-ha! I threw you for a loop! Hehe…surprised at the twist? What will happen next? Is Alex just really tired, or was there something with the food? (Hmm…) Anywho, review please, and make my birthday a good one!


	6. Chapter 6: Hide and Seek

A/N: I'm back…from a swim meet! So, you all have been wondering…what did I do to Alex? Patience, my readers, and all will be explained…well, maybe. I won't give my whole plot away! And by the way, this chappie is pretty long... :)

Chapter Six: Hide-and-Seek

When bright sunlight streamed through the hotel room window, Alex began to stir.

_What happened to me? Why do I feel as if I've been run over by a truck? _he thought. _And where the hell is all of that light coming from?_

Yassen, perched on the foot of Alex's bed, noticed that the boy began to wake up. He walked over to the bed's side and knelt down. "Alex? Can you hear me?" he asked softly.

Alex opened his eyes all of the way, only to find a pair of ice blue eyes staring at him. His vision focused, and he realized that Yassen was looking at him, concerned.

"Wuzzgoingon?" Alex managed to get out. "What…happened…to me?"

Yassen was really looking worried. "What do you remember?"

Alex thought for a second, pulling himself up into a sitting position. He groaned, putting his hands to his head. "Headache," he muttered. "Well, I remember we went to brunch, and then when we came back here I started feeling really tired…that's about it."

Yassen seemed to relax a little, walking into the kitchen. He came back with two aspirin and a glass of water. "Here," he said. Alex took them, swallowing them and talking a gulp of water.

"So," prodded Alex, "What do you think happened to me?"

Yassen frowned. "I don't know; let me think." He folded his arms. "What did you eat at brunch?"

"What? You think someone's trying to poison me?" growled Alex.

"Answer the question," Yassen said. "Don't test me on this."

Alex sighed. "Eggs, bacon, toast with marmalade. That was it."

"I had some of those too," said Yassen, his frown deepening. "Wait. What did you have on the toast?"

"Orange marmalade."

"What are you talking about?" Yassen asked sharply. "That wasn't orange, it was apricot."

"Whatever," Alex snapped. "It's all the same."

Yassen looked annoyed. "What did you have to drink?"

"Milk," Alex replied.

Yassen was silent for a second, and then suddenly it looked as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

"Are you sure it was milk? What did it taste like?"

"It was a little odd at first, but other than that, it was okay," Alex said confusedly. "Why?"

Yassen strided over to his bed, grabbing his duffel bag. "Because," he said, pulling out a sleek black laptop, "I think that might've been more than just milk." He pulled a cable out of his bag and fished something out of his pocket. Alex recognized it immediately by its odd color; it was Yassen's phone. He sat down at the room's desk, connected the phone to the laptop, and powered it up.

Alex walked over. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Getting internet service," Yassen replied. "Now, pull up a chair."

Once the screen powered on, Yassen went to the internet, pulling up an image search engine.

"What's going on?" Alex demanded.

Yassen sighed, turning to face Alex. "There's this drug I know a little about," he said, rubbing his eyes. "At Scorpia we called it 'Storm.' It's a powder, and you can mix it into anything…it makes people pass out, throw up, or worse. Everyone reacts differently." He pulled up a few images of it, and Alex heard him draw in a sharp breath. "And, it's white," he said, sighing wearily and closing the laptop.

Alex nodded. "So you think that Chrazeski, or somebody, slipped this into the milk? What's their motive? I mean, I'm supposed to be your son, remember."

Yassen frowned. "Honestly, Alex, I don't know. If Chrazeski has a motive, then we've done what MI6 told us to do, but I can't see what that motive would be."

Alex thought for a second. "Could it be something against Ethan Blakeley? I don't know; personal or professional could both be a choice."

Yassen thought about this one. "Hmm. That could be a possibility, but what's the point in harming you? And what would be the issue that he would go far enough to poison someone who just made the biggest investment of the season? I don't know, Alex, but we've got to lie low; pretend that nothing has happened. We're here for a job; not to get involved in another incident like what happened on Air Force One."

They were both silent for a second. "So what do we do now?" asked Alex. "You said so yourself we can't do anything major; how are we going to investigate this compound?"

A smile twitched at Yassen's lips. "I said we'd lie low," he said, "but I didn't say that we wouldn't investigate."

Alex sighed. Sometimes the Russian had an odd way of thinking. "What time is it now?" Alex asked.

Yassen glanced at this watch. "Three-thirty. Are you tired?"

Alex shook his head. "Definitely not."

Yassen stood up. "Then keep watch while I take a nap; this is going to be one hell of a night."

Alex sighed again. Yes, the Russian had a very odd way of thinking.

Precisely three hours and twenty-seven minutes later, Yassen woke up. He swung himself off the bed, ran a hand through his hair, and turned to Alex. "What did I miss?" he asked sharply. "What happened while I was asleep?"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Chill, Yassen. Want to know what happened while you were out? I drank three cans of coke and stared out of this freaking window. You know, you really need to come to grip with the whole sleeping for long periods of time thing. It's a natural process of life; everyone's got to do it sooner or later."

Yassen gave Alex one of his glares. "You have no idea what it is like to be in a situation where if you fall asleep, you might just not be alive to wake back up later. So stop talking about stuff you don't know."

Alex let it rest. He wasn't in the mood for picking a fight with the Russian. So, seeing as it was seven o' clock and it was finally starting to get dark out, he decided to have dinner.

"Do we have anything to eat around here?" he asked Yassen.

Yassen shrugged. "Look in the kitchen. Maybe there's something edible."

Alex did, finding a bag of free pretzels sitting on the counter. He opened the bag and made to take a pretzel, but stopped. He peered at the pretzels inside. They didn't look suspicious, but he'd ask Yassen to make sure.

"Yassen?" Alex asked, walking back into the bedroom. The Russian turned to look at him. "Are there safe to eat?" he queried, handing his the bag.

Yassen looked at them and sniffed the bag. "Look okay," he asked. "Have they been opened before? Was the seal okay?"

"It seemed normal," replied Alex.

"Should be safe, then," Yassen replied, rummaging around in his duffel bag. He pulled out his traditional assassin's ensemble- all black. "Find something dark to wear," he told Alex.

Alex walked over to his bag, which was beside his bed. He looked around in it, finally finding black jeans and a black turtleneck. He laid them on the bed, zipping his bag up and tossing it onto the floor. Finishing his pretzels, he took a bottle of water out of the fridge, gulping it down.

After his "dinner," Alex then put on his black clothes. He then looked around for black shoes, his eyes finally settling on a pair of his favorite combat boots, which he had brought with him. He then turned to Yassen. "Now what?" he said, looking at the clock. It was eight fifteen. Glancing outside, he saw that the sky was getting dark. "We wait, I presume?"

"Yes," said Yassen. "We can go in about half an hour. But first…"

Alex looked at the Russian, who suddenly handed him a flashlight gun. Looking closer, he finally saw that it was a Grach; Alex tucked it into his belt, amused. Yassen had one as well; he jammed a magazine into its slot.

"Where'd you get these?" he asked.

"I've had them the whole time," Yassen smirked. "It pays to have a custom made suitcase with a hidden compartment; the compartment has x-ray deflecting fabric sewed into it. Besides, I never go anywhere without a gun on my side, and you shouldn't either."

Alex decided not to comment, but then Yassen said "Let's go."

They made their way out of the hotel silently; not making any noise that could alert motion cameras or anything of the sort. Alex had to keep up with Yassen, because he moved quickly and steadily. They were able to make it out of the hotel without being seen.

"Where now?" Alex whispered, so only Yassen could hear him.

He heard a voice, beside his ear. "I know where we are going, so follow me."

Alex had no idea where Yassen was taking him, but his question was soon answered. The Russian had led him to a building with a sign on it that said "Machinery Assembly."

Yassen walked over to the main door, drawing something small from his belt. Alex watched as he inserted what looked like a paperclip into the door's lock; he was silent as he jiggled it around. About twenty seconds later, he heard a click, and Yassen swung the door open silently. He beckoned Alex forward.

"Damn, those professional locks were always the hardest," Alex heard him say. Alex smiled to himself, pulling his flashlight from his belt. When it clicked on, there was another flash of light as Yassen turned his on as well.

Yassen touched Alex's shoulder and pointed at something on the floor. Alex looked carefully. At first he didn't see anything, but when he looked closely, he saw a thin red beam of light, and suddenly he understood. It was a trip wire. Anything that would break the laser's beam would set off the alarm. It was clever, Alex admitted, but not enough to fool the world's number one assassin. Yassen nimbly hopped over the wire, and then Alex did the same.

The two agents looked around them, using their flashlights to illuminate the room. Alex could see that it was a very large room. On one half of the room, he could see what looked like a large conveyor belt; on the other half there were hundreds upon hundreds of pieces of machinery. Some looked finished; others didn't. Yassen caught Alex's attention and tipped his head towards the belt. "I'll take this side," he said. "You take that one."

Alex crept silently over to the equipment, his flashlight lighting up the floor. Alex approached what he realized was a farm tractor. He ran his hand over the black hood; it seemed okay. He opened the hood up, but to his surprise, there was no engine. Alex shrugged and moved on to another piece of equipment.

Yassen, over at the conveyor belt, was not finding anything of suspicion. He poked and prodded, but everything seemed to be alright. _Maybe MI6 had gotten it wrong, _Yassen told himself thoughtfully. He then snorted. _Nice try, _he said to himself.

All of a sudden Yassen heard a noise. It sounded like a bang. He looked around him in alarm, and then silently rushed over to Alex.

"What happened?" Yassen asked the teen.

Alex looked up at him, alert. "No idea," he whispered.

Both agents clicked off their flashlights as they heard the sound of a door opening. Alex could feel Yassen standing beside him, tense and alert.

All of a sudden, a light clicked on at the end of the room. It wasn't enough to blow the agents' cover, but it was enough for them to see.

Alex could see two men- and one of them was Chrazeski. He watched as the men approached the darkness and flicked the next set of lights on. They would turn on every light in the room! Alex looked at Yassen in alarm, and he could tell that the Russian was thinking the same thing. Yassen tapped Alex's back. "Follow me," he said.

Yassen led Alex to the back of the room where it was still pretty dark. Seeing a large bulldozer, he got an idea.

Yassen approached the bulldozer, and Alex followed. Yassen cautiously opened the cab's door and peered inside; it would be big enough for two. He motioned for Alex to get in.

Alex didn't look too thrilled at this idea, but he got in anyway. Yassen got in next, surprised at how big the dozer's cab was. The two agents crouched down on the floor, and Yassen closed the door, leaving a tiny crack so he could hear.

Beside him, Alex was crouched into a ball. He could hear the Russian's steady, slow breathing beside him; then Chrazeski was talking and Alex strained to hear.

"The shipment is on time as expected, yes?" Chraezski said. Yassen opened the door a crack more, and the voices became much clearer.

"Yes," said an unfamiliar voice. Yassen couldn't place the voice; it certainly wasn't someone he knew.

"And when it arrives, it will be in the proper form, I presume?" Chrazeski asked. "If they aren't, this won't work."

"They all have been packaged as you requested," the unfamiliar voice said, sounding bored.

"And the price?"

"The total comes to roughly fourteen million," the voice said again.

Yassen let out a sharp breath. What the hell was Chrazeski buying for _fourteen million _dollars? Yassen heard the soft thud of shoes and they walked around, and then he realized they must me getting closer. Should he try to close the door and risk being seen? No, definitely not.

Yassen froze as the footsteps cam incredibly close; and he shrunk back as it hit him- the two men were standing right outside the dozer. Yassen dared not look at Alex; any movement might make a noise.

"What about this one?" he heard the voice say. The voice was as clear as day; it was as if he the man was talking to him.

"I…" Chraezski paused. "This one has just been bought by a rather rich buyer of mine; it will be included in his order of ten million dollars' worth."

Yassen shivered, listening carefully.

"You know," the voice said, "it won't be cheap to fill this one."

"I know," sighed Chrazeski. "But it must be done."

Then, to Yassen and Alex's relief, the footsteps faded. Yassen waited as the room was plunged into darkness once more. He felt around behind him, touching Alex's arm. "Let's go," he commented, flicking on his flashlight.

The agents crept silently back to the door from which they had entered. Remembering to jump over the trip wire, Yassen shut the door and the agents raced back to the hotel. They silently ran up the steps, not stopping until Yassen had pulled the hotel room's key card from his pocket, opening the door, and locking it behind them.

Alex flopped down his bed, catching his breath. His mind was racing. He looked over at Yassen to see him sitting on the bed and frowning. "What's going on, Yassen? What is Chraezski doing? And what did he mean, 'to fill this one'?"

Yassen sighed, deep in thought. "I don't know Alex." He stood up, pacing back and forth. "What does he mean, 'in the proper form'? And just what on earth will cost him fourteen million dollars?"

Alex sat up, unlacing his combat boots. "That confused me too; and what's the deal with it being on time?"

Both agents were lost for words.

"I'm hungry again," Alex said. "I'm going to find something else to eat."

Yassen sighed. "And I'm going to get a shower," he said, pulling off his shirt to reveal his perfectly toned abs. "Maybe it will help me think."

Yassen walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He turned on the shower, waited until the water was nice and warm, took off his clothes, and got in. The warm water felt nice, but it didn't quell his uneasy thoughts about Chrazeski. Yassen was getting confused. Without more information, he had no idea what Chrazeski was planning.

Turning off the water, he stepped out of the shower and put his black pants back on. Walking out of the bathroom, he ran his hands through his hair; it dripped water down his bare arms and chest. He grabbed his duffel bag, found a blue t-shirt, and put it on. He then walked into the kitchen to see if Alex had found anything to eat.

Yassen found the teen at the mini table, eating what looked suspiciously looked like a can of cold tomato soup. "Where did you get that?" he asked Alex.

Alex, who had since changed into shorts and a t-shirt, looked at the Russian. "I brought it from home," he said. "I knew that they'd never have anything good to eat at this time of night. Besides, I like cold soup."

Yassen looked at him hesitantly. "Bring anything else?"

Alex stood up, left the room, and came back a few minutes later with another can, which he pressed into Yassen's hand. "I hope you don't mind…"

Yassen looked at the label- Mexican refried beans. He actually liked these; he'd had them a few times while he was in Mexico. He opened the can, grabbed a plastic spoon, and sat down at the table. He didn't bother reheating them; they'd taste okay cold.

After he and Alex finished their cans of food, they went back into the bedroom. "I'm going to bed," Alex announced.

"So am I," said Yassen, yawning.

Alex whipped around to look at him. "What was that? The great Yassen Gregorovich is actually going to sleep?"

"Shut up," Yassen growled, lying down on top of the bed, clothes and all. "This still doesn't mean I'll sleep for more than 4 hours, so don't get yourself all excited."

Alex let it go, smiling wearily to himself. He took off his t-shirt and crawled underneath the covers, turning out the light as he did so. Then a thought came to him.

"Yassen?" he said in the dark.

"What?" came the reply.

"I was wondering…what was my dad like?"

There was a sigh, and a pause, then "Are you sure you want to hear it from me?"

"Of course," Alex replied, awake now. "No one could tell me more than you."

Silence. Then, all of a sudden Yassen flicked the lamp beside the bed on and turned to face the teen. "Well…he was a great man, Alex. He taught me many things…he's one of the reasons I am so good at what I do. And I know, you'll tell me that he worked for MI6. Well, that still doesn't change what I think of him."

Alex was taken aback. "You know about that?" He looked into the Russian's ice blue eyes, which reflected sadness.

"Yes, I have gained a great deal of knowledge over the past few months," said Yassen softly. There was another pause, and Yassen swiftly changed the subject. "Anyway, he taught me almost everything I know. He was, if you want to say, my mentor at Scorpia."

Alex was intrigued. "What was he like as a mentor?"

Yassen laughed quietly. "Well, for one thing, he was very patient with me. Probably too patient." The ghost of a smile flicked across Yassen's face. "What else do you want to know?"

Alex thought. Yassen was in a good mood, and if he was going to tell him about his father, he wanted to know more. "Am I really like him, like everyone says I am?"

Yassen looked Alex in the eyes. "Yes and no," he told the teen. "John was more of a play-by-the-rules spy; you're more of the instinctive type. Don't automatically compare yourself to John, Alex; you've done things that John would never have done."

Alex frowned. "Is that a compliment?"

Yassen nodded, but didn't say more.

"How long did you know him?"

"I knew him for…a while. I was at his wedding."

Alex was surprised. "You were?"

"Yeah," said Yassen. "I was there. It was really nice and everything; I wasn't so sure I should be there, with security reasons and all, but your father pleaded with me to come."

Alex fell silent. "One more question. Just one."

"Fire away."

"What happened with the whole…Amazon life-saving thing? You know, the scar on your neck?"

Yassen sighed. He knew that the conversation would come to this. He subconsciously ran a finger across the scar. "We were in the Amazon, and I was on my first mission, with your father," he explained. "We were assigned to kill a man, for reasons I won't get into. Anyway, I was spotting, John was shooting." Yassen's eyes had a faraway look, as if he were reliving the memory. "I had spotted the man we were to kill, but at the same time a black widow spider crawled onto my neck. Your father knew that if he fired at the man, the spider would bite and kill me; on the other hand, if he shooed away the spider, we would never be able to kill our target in time. There was not time to do both separately; so John took care of both at once." Yassen fell silent, knowing Alex understood what had happened.

"Wow," said Alex. "I'll never be that good."

Yassen gave him a small smile. "You never know," he told Alex.

Alex fell silent. Feeling suddenly tired, he reached over and clicked off the light.

"Good night, Yassen," he said wearily.

There was a pause. "Good night, Alex," the Russian replied.

A/N: Whee! A long chapter for you all- over 7 pages on Word. Anywho…reviews, people!! I will not post my next chapter until I get at least 4 reviews!!


	7. Chapter 7: Keeping Promises

A/N: I am back! I'm glad you all liked the last chapter…thanks for reviewing, as always! Oh, and from now on, the story will probably be going back and forth from Alex to Yassen's points of view. So…I'll stop talking now. Enjoy!

Chapter Seven: Keeping Promises

Yassen Gregorovich's eyes shot open.

He took several deep breaths, sitting up in bed. Sweat fell down his forehead, and his heart was beating rapidly.

He'd had this dream before…more than once.

Yassen blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dark. He looked over at Alex, sleeping peacefully in his bed. Well, as peaceful as a fourteen-year-old spy could be.

Yassen swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting up and stumbling in the dark to the mini kitchen. Finding a glass, he held it under the sink, filling it up. He then drank the glass in one gulp. He set it back on the counter and walked back to the bedroom.

He knew there wasn't a chance of getting to sleep again; he looked at the clock and saw that it was about 5:30. Yassen settled for powering up his laptop and checking his mail. But even that didn't take his mind off of the dream. The face that kept finding its way into his head. The face of John Rider.

Sure, he'd idolized John Rider; maybe even loved him. But that still didn't change the fact that almost every night, for the past couple of weeks, he'd had the dream.

But it had never been this thorough before.

Yassen closed his eyes for a second, thinking about the dream; reliving it one more time.

_John Rider stands by his cot, packing. He will finally be leaving the Scorpia barracks. For good. He hears footsteps behind him, and turns to see the face he knows so well- the face of Yassen Gregorovich._

_"Hello, John," Yassen says softly. "I just came to say goodbye."_

_John gives Yassen a long, sad look. "I wish that it did not have to be this way. You know that."_

_"I do know," says the Russian. "And I'm sorry." _

_John clears his throat. "Listen, Yassen. There is something I must ask you to do for me."_

_Yassen nods. "Anything," he says._

_John hesitates for a second, glancing around him. But there is no one around. "You know about my son named Alex, right?"_

_Yassen is confused at where this may be leading, but nods._

_"You see," says John, "I know that me being…who I am doesn't really help in the way of raising my son. And that someday, I could be gone. And there Alex would be, without a father."_

_Yassen starts to say something, but John interrupts him. "Promise me something, Yassen. Just one thing. Promise me that of something ever happens to me, you'll be there for Alex."_

_Yassen frowns. "Don't say that-"_

_"Please, Yassen," John says quietly, his eyes pleading. "Just tell me the two words I need to hear."_

_Yassen steps toward the man, giving him a quick hug. "I promise," he whispers softly, and walks away._

Yassen opened his eyes. The memory was raw and fresh in his mind, as if it had only been put there yesterday. He sighed. If John could see him now, what would he say?

Yassen glanced over at the sleeping Alex. Sure, he cared for the boy. Maybe more than he should. But being there for Alex could only go so far- especially since he had killed the boy's uncle. And after the talk that they had had last night….

Yassen rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. He hated having to deal with things like this. He was not a warm and fuzzy person; at heart he would always be a cold killer. And nobody could chance that, not even Alex; because people like Yassen were born, not made.

Yassen closed the laptop, realizing that he still had two-and-a-half hours until he should wake Alex up. So he decided to do the only thing that really cleared his mind- go for a run. After putting on a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt, he grabbed his best running shoes and pulled them on. He searched around the hotel room to find something to write on, eventually finding a little notepad and pen in the room's desk. Quickly, he scribbled a note to Alex, in case the teen woke up early and wondered where he'd gone.

He left the hotel building, and decided to keep to the outskirts of the compound as not to arouse suspicion. Yassen broke into a run, his feet keeping a steady pace on the sidewalk as he tried to chase the dream out of his mind.

Roughly an hour later, Alex awoke in the hotel room. He sleepily rolled over on his side and glanced at the clock; it was a little after six-thirty. Sunlight was starting to peek through the window, and that was when Alex realized- Yassen wasn't in the room. Alex supposed that he was eating breakfast, until he saw the little not on the bedside table. Reading it, he smiled to himself. The Russian could never keep still for long.

Alex got out of bed, ruffling his hair. Now that he thought about it, a run didn't seem like a bad idea; he could use one as well. Pulling on his favorite running shoes that he had worn on the way to the compound, he looked around for the card key and discovered that it was gone. Yassen had probably taken it, so Alex closed the door behind him and set off.

Alex didn't know where to run; the compound was so big that he didn't know where he was and wasn't allowed. He set off towards the outer edge of the buildings, and he tried to let his mind go blank.

Meanwhile, Yassen had just completed his second lap around the compound, guessing that he had run about 4 miles so far. He at least wanted to get in another two, so he picked up the pace. He was just passing one of the larger buildings when he heard a noise.

As first, Yassen though that he was hearing his own feet; the pace of the noise was close to his own, if not a little slower. But then he realized that he was not hearing himself, and that someone was running. Yassen passed the edge of the building and saw a flash of fair hair pass by the other side and nearly laughed. So…Alex was out for a run as well.

Yassen cut across his path to meet Alex's, and watched the boy run in front of him. Yassen sprinted to close the distance between him and Alex. When he reached Alex's side, the teen looked over at him, but didn't seem surprised.

"Odd minds think alike," said Alex, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Yassen raised an eyebrow in mock confusion. "Did you just call me odd? I think I prefer the term intelligent."

Alex shrugged, and quickened his pace to meet Yassen's. They ran the rest of the two miles, and when they had looped around the entire compound, they stopped at the hotel.

Alex wiped sweat off of his forehead. "I need a shower. Right now."

"You're not the only one," said Yassen, as they walked up the steps to their floor. Once inside the hotel room, Alex headed straight to the bathroom, while Yassen headed to the kitchen to find something cold to drink. He drank 3 glasses of water; Alex walked into the kitchen in a new set of clothes (and having wet hair) to find Yassen starting on his 4th glass.

Yassen set the glass down and also went to take a shower. He didn't even bother turning on the hot water; the cold felt very nice.

After showering and finding something to put on, he went to find Alex. Alex was in the kitchen, reading what appeared to be a paper.

"Where'd you get that?" Yassen asked interestedly.

"It was delivered. Moring paper." Alex replied, not looking up.

At this moment the hotel phone room chose to ring. Again. Yassen yawned and went to get it. It was Chrazeski himself.

"Ethan? I was wondering if you'd like to see your new equipment. I'm not busy at the moment, so I could show it to you myself, if you'd like."

Yassen thought that this would be a good idea; maybe it would give him the chance to pick Chrazeski's brain a bit. "Alright. We'll be in the lobby in ten minutes," he said. He went back into the kitchen to find Alex and told him the plan.

Alex frowned. "Do I have to wear the suit again?"

Yassen thought about it. "No, just wear something, well, nice."

Alex seemed amused by this statement, but he went into the bedroom and found something to wear, while Yassen looked at the newspaper. He came back in khaki pants and a dress shirt. "Does this qualify as…nice?" he said, smirking.

Yassen gave Alex a glare. "Don't test me, Alex; it's an outfit. It's fine; I'm not a freaking fashion designer."

The mental image of this caused Alex to burst out laughing. Yassen whacked him on the shoulder with the newspaper. "Shut up," he growled. "Or next time I won't throw myself in front of a bullet for you."

Alex was still laughing at the previous statement when Yassen left the room. He found a pair of black pants and a dress shirt in his bag; he put them on.

The two agents were ready to leave. As they made their way down to the lobby, they noticed that the lobby was busy as ever, seeing as today was the day of the Conference. They walked out of the lobby to the car that was waiting for them; the driver got out and opened the door for the two agents. Yassen and Alex slid in the seats to find Chrazeski sitting in the passenger's seat up front. He greeted them and they were off.

Yassen looked out of the window as they passed by numerous buildings; they drove past the one where he and Alex had investigated last night. Finally, the car stopped at a rather large building that looked somewhat similar to the assembly building.

The three passengers got out; Chrazeski then turned to Yassen. "I heard that you and your son went for a run this morning?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," said Yassen, trying to sound apologetic. "I hope we didn't cause any trouble."

Chrazeski waved the comment away. "Not at all, Ethan…ah, here we are!" he said, opening the door to the storage building.

When he opened the door and they all stepped inside, Yassen began to get the feeling that something wasn't quite right. He couldn't explain his reasoning, but with all of his years of being an assassin, he sort of had a sixth sense like this.

Chrazeski was leading Yassen and Alex around the compound, but Yassen was hardly listening to what the man was saying. He was looking closely at the machinery- which happened to be anything from farm tractors to bulldozers. After leading them around the building, Chrazeski led them back outside.

"So, what do you think, Ethan?" he asked.

Yassen nodded. "Excellent. I am very satisfied."

Chrazeski gave a small smile. "Good. And what will the two of you be doing today? Perhaps a ride into town?"

Yassen shrugged. "Well, your drivers are all very busy, so we wouldn't want to take up their time…"

Chrazeski cut him off. "Now now, Ethan, you're one of my best buyers! Surely I can trust you with on of my personal vehicles?" The man gave Yassen a sly smile.

"Of course," Yassen said coolly. Chrazeski pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket and handed them to Yassen. "Go through there," he said, pointing to a grey garage.  
"First car on the left."

Alex was dying to ask Yassen a few questions, but he knew he couldn't. When Alex and Yassen walked into the garage, they saw the car that Chrazeski was talking about. It was a silver Jaguar.

Alex liked the car; he smiled to himself ad he got in. Then he turned to look at the Russian.

"Why is Chrazeski doing this?" Alex asked.

Yassen gave him a grim smile. "Because it's a perfect excuse for him to search our hotel room."

"What?" screeched Alex.

"Yeah," said Yassen as he pulled the car out of the garage. "Although I do like this car," he added.

"What about our stuff?" Alex exclaimed.

Yassen sighed. "The only two items that could possibly look suspicious are my phone and laptop. I have my phone with me," Yassen said, patting his pants pocket, "and they won't be able to access my laptop. It's password protected; the password changes over 4 times a minute. The only way to bypass that is to hook my phone up to it. It's good because it protects my identity; I had the program mad for me by the Russian Mafia's best computer hacker."

Alex nodded, slightly relieved. "I still don't like that they're going through our stuff."

Yassen frowned. "Me neither. But there's nothing we can do about it."

Yassen drove down one of the main highways, finding his way by looking at signs on the side of the street. Eventually, he got off at an exit and pulled onto one of the busiest roads Alex had ever seen. "Here's the city," Yassen commented.

Yassen drove around for a bit, eventually parking on the side of the road where he found a bit of space. Alex looked around.

"There's a sign that says there's a food court down the road a little ways; we can have an early lunch," Yassen said as they got out of the car. The two agents walked down the sidewalk, eventually coming to what appeared to be a food court. When they stepped inside, there was food from every country imaginable. Alex glanced around.

"Find whatever you want to eat, and meet me at the table over there by the fountain," Yassen said, pressing a few notes into Alex's hand. Alex nodded and set off to find his lunch. After deciding on some Italian pizza, he headed over to the table, where Yassen was waiting. The Russian was eating something that Alex couldn't identify.

Alex sat down and pointed towards Yassen's food. "What's that?"

Yassen seemed amused. "It's a Russian food. If I told you what's in it you wouldn't really want to eat you lunch," he said. "We Russians eat some odd but tasty things."

Alex shrugged. "I prefer traditional foods," he said as he bit into his pizza.

A little while later, when the two agents had finished their meals, they walked out of the food court and back to the car.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Alex, squinting in the bright sunlight.

"No idea," said Yassen. "Maybe we'll drive around and take a look." His cell phone rang. Yassen frowned, pulling it out of his pocket and snapping it open.

As soon as the Russian began listening, he gave Alex a worried look. "Get in the car," he mouthed.

Alex, confused, jogged to the car and got in, Yassen on his heels. He pulled the door shut just as Yassen closed his cell phone. "Put your seat belt on," he snapped, starting the car and pulling out of the parking space.

"What's going on, Yassen?" Alex asked, lost.

Yassen let out a tense breath. "Scorpio knows I'm here."

Alex was annoyed. "How the hell did they find you here? What are we going to do?"

Yassen pulled onto the highway and looked in his rearview mirror. "Shit!" he spat.

Alex twisted around in his seat, only to see a black BMW following them. He groaned.

"As for your question, Alex, can I deal with that another time? I'm kind of busy here. Is your seat belt fastened? Hang on then."

Alex didn't have time to reply; his stomach rose to his throat as Yassen slammed the accelerator to the floor. Alex watched as they pulled onto the highway and started weaving among cars. He glanced over at Yassen; the Russian didn't seem fazed by this high speed game of cat-and-mouse. Instead, Yassen glanced appreciatively at the car. "I always did want one of these," he said, "maybe I'll get one of these instead of a Porsche."

Alex decided not to comment; he did feel rather queasy, but he knew it wasn't going to improve as Yassen pulled off of the highway onto another exit. Alex glanced out the window but quickly felt sick at the sight of trees whipping past the car in a blur. Then, Yassen turned onto a dirt road.

"This is where it gets fun," he said as he glanced in his rearview mirror.

Alex glanced at the speedometer; they were flying down this road at about 130 miles per hour. (A/N: I think that's about 210 kilometers per hour.)

He must have been looking a little green, because Yassen looked over. "You okay there, Alex? You don't look so good."

Alex didn't bother with replies; he was afraid he'd vomit if he tried to speak. All of a sudden Yassen slammed on the brakes, whipping the steering wheel around and making a 180° turn. The next thing Alex knew, they were speeding back the way they had come.

Yassen smirked. "Ha! We'll lose him now, I know we will. I've got a new plan."

Alex was not so sure about Yassen's plans, but he didn't comment. He closed his eyes, but after a while could stand it no longer. He opened his eyes to see the car moving towards a construction barrier. He suddenly knew what Yassen was planning to do.

"Ehh…Yassen?"

"Not now," the Russian snapped. "Brace yourself."

The car smashed into the wooden barrier and off the ledge, hurtling towards the ground six feet below. Alex felt his whole body take the impact; he felt horribly sick. He felt as if his body had compressed itself. Then, he felt the car slowing down. He glanced over at Yassen. "What's wrong?" he asked tentatively.

Yassen gave a small smile. "The idiot can't follow us- his BMW would have never taken a hit like that." He looked over at Alex. "Although I'm pretty sure you can't either." He quickly reached over Alex and unlocked the door, opening it. He watched as Alex staggered out into the grass; he heard the sound of the teen retching. When Alex staggered back into the car, Yassen looked amused. "You'll get used to how I drive, don't worry," the Russian said.

Alex glared at him. "Thanks a lot."

"It wasn't my fault Scorpia sent someone after me. They know that I'll outwit them every time," Yassen said indifferently. "Anyway, we should get back to the compound. Before something else like this happens." With that said, Yassen started the car and started the drive back to the compound.

Although Yassen was worried, he didn't show it. He was thinking about the Scorpia man who had followed them. They had gotten off easy, but the man would report back to Scorpia. And then what? Yassen wasn't just worried for himself; he was worried for Alex as well. He knew Scorpia's game, he knew what they'd do- they had seen Alex with him. They would try to use Alex to get to him. Well, Yassen wasn't letting that happen anytime soon…even if it meant he now had two people to protect instead of one.

He pulled into the compound, parking the car in it's spot. Before he opened the door, he turned to Alex. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Alex nodded wearily. "I just think that I would like a nap."

Yassen nodded, and they got out of the car. They walked all the way to their hotel building in silence. Once they had climbed the steps, reached the hotel room, and proceeded to enter the room, Yassen locked the door behind them and motioned for Alex to stay silent. He conducted another check of the room to see if there were any hidden bugs.

Oddly enough, there weren't any. Yassen frowned. "Why would they search the room and not bug it?" he thought aloud.

"Are you sure it was searched?" Alex asked him.

"Yeah," said Yassen. "Look here…" he opened his duffel bag. "I put my green shirt underneath my blue one, and now it's on top." He shrugged and put the duffel away. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was almost 2.

"Well, I'm taking a nap," said Alex tiredly. He laid down on the bed, nice clothes and all. "Wake me up in an hour or so. What time does the convention thingy start tonight?"

"Six," Yassen replied. "Although I would advise eating before we leave."

Alex nodded and closed his eyes. Yassen, who wasn't sleepy, turned on his laptop to check his mail. He was thinking about the whole deal with Chrazeski's machinery, when suddenly it clicked.

Yassen knew Chrazeski was hiding something.

He knew how it was being hidden; all he needed to know now was what the object in question was.

And Yassen knew how to find out.

A/N: Well, there you go! A bit long for me, I know. (This chapter is over 3,500 words.) Anywho, you all know the drill. 4 reviews and I'll update! :)


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